ll follow him,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'we may as well see Ipswich as any
other place. I'll follow him.'

'You're quite certain it was them, governor?' inquired Mr. Weller,
junior.

'Quite, Sammy, quite,' replied his father, 'for their appearance is
wery sing'ler; besides that 'ere, I wondered to see the gen'l'm'n so
formiliar with his servant; and, more than that, as they sat in the
front, right behind the box, I heerd 'em laughing and saying how they'd
done old Fireworks.'

'Old who?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Old Fireworks, Sir; by which, I've no doubt, they meant you, Sir.'
There is nothing positively vile or atrocious in the appellation of
'old Fireworks,' but still it is by no means a respectful or flattering
designation. The recollection of all the wrongs he had sustained at
Jingle's hands, had crowded on Mr. Pickwick's mind, the moment Mr.
Weller began to speak; it wanted but a feather to turn the scale, and
'old Fireworks' did it.

'I'll follow him,' said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the
table.

'I shall work down to Ipswich the day arter to-morrow, Sir,' said Mr.
Weller the elder, 'from the Bull in Whitechapel; and if you really mean
to go, you'd better go with me.'

'So we had,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'very true; I can write to Bury, and
tell them to meet me at Ipswich. We will go with you. But don't hurry
away, Mr. Weller; won't you take anything?'

'You're wery good, Sir,' replied Mr. W., stopping short;--'perhaps a
small glass of brandy to drink your health, and success to Sammy, Sir,
wouldn't be amiss.'

'Certainly not,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'A glass of brandy here!' The
brandy was brought; and Mr. Weller, after pulling his hair to Mr.
Pickwick, and nodding to Sam, jerked it down his capacious throat as
if it had been a small thimbleful. 'Well done, father,' said Sam, 'take
care, old fellow, or you'll have a touch of your old complaint, the
gout.'

'I've found a sov'rin' cure for that, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, setting
down the glass.

'A sovereign cure for the gout,' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily producing
his note-book--'what is it?'

'The gout, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller, 'the gout is a complaint as arises
from too much ease and comfort. If ever you're attacked with the gout,
sir, jist you marry a widder as has got a good loud woice, with a decent
notion of usin' it, and you'll never have the gout agin. It's a capital
prescription, sir. I takes it reg'lar, and I can warrant it to drive
away a